Locket
by Jessaminebell
Summary: Staged directly after the Bloody Mary case, the brothers find a very odd town nestled in the crook of Fall and Summer. There, they learn the stretches of loyalty and compassion of family, even beyond the world of the living. What they experience will most definitely lead to many other discoveries, be it of themselves or the opposite sibling.
1. Chapter 1

"We've handled worse before, Dean." Sam could only put in a few words before his brother issued the verdict of the situation.  
"This one is different, Sammy. I'm not going to go all out girly on you, but.." He squeezed the wheel to his car, a thin trail of sweat racing down the side of his head. While his fingers were turning white at the pressure he applied, Dean's collected face hinted a nonchalant demeanor.  
Sam slowly but surely smiled, putting two and two together.  
"You're scared, aren't you, Dean? What, did the Bloody Mary case get to you or something?" Seeing his brother finally letting down his front and admitting fright was a rare thing, truly odd. And Sam absolutely relished in it. Dean would often tease him, what was the difference if the roles were switched?  
"Of course not. You're crazy. It's just, I can't imagine dad ever coming to a place like this, can you?" Dean quickly changed the subject, turning into a nearby street.  
It was a warm afternoon, all in all. An early fall breeze would occasionally sweep past the trees, sending the leaves against each other, and succeed in creating a heavenly noise in the small town. Even with such sounds and sights, Dean couldn't help but keep his grip tight on the steering wheel. It seemed to tighten as flashing red and blue lights appeared. He slowed his drive, pulling to an apparent road-stop. It was the street into town, the iron-clad gates just in the distance. If only they could just drive a couple more feet.  
An officer motioned for his window to be put down, Dean complying without any resistance. No use in trying to defy the law.  
"What seems to be the problem, officer?" His usual arrogant smirk appeared, Sam rolling his eyes and simply staring on.  
The rather slender man studied the two carefully, his bright blue eyes sending shivers of paranoia down both brothers' backs. He spoke in a gruff voice, clearing his throat.  
"You're from out of town, aren't you? Outsiders aren't welcome. You should leave." With no direct order to exit, Dean kept the gear forward.  
"Not a very welcoming crowd, are you?" Dean stated, withdrawing and allowing his brother to take command, already feeling a slight annoyance at the road block. Sam leaned to the window, the cop's attention switching to him.  
"Is this because of the recent string of kidnappings among young women? We're reporters from Dalestone. Our editor sent us here to do a feature."  
Dean couldn't help but issue a frown.  
Lying was something they had learned to do over so many years, yet it was anything but comfortable to do. With each word conveyed, the brothers acquired a new identity, a new way to act. In turn, it seemed to push others away, maybe even succeeding in pushing away their true colors. With enough time, what would remain of themselves? Or would that, too, disappear in their mountain of lies?  
Dean snapped out of his thought, turning back to the situation at hand.  
The cop's blue eyes once again rested on Dean, the deep pools cold and calculating.  
"Yes, with so many incidents, the local police have made contact with the state. We're supposed to check every person going in or out of the town. It would be in your best interest to leave, as to not get pegged with some criminal. You two look like nice boys, so.."  
Dean couldn't help but regain a smile of their last adventure with the law. That owner probably didn't know what to do with the two passed out cops at his shop entrance.  
"Well, officer, with all due respect, this article needs to be done. If you would be so kind to.." Sam trailed off, motioning towards the closed gate. With a mere shrug, the officer walked towards the entrance. He opened the rusted hinges, swinging out the metal. Dean put it in drive, slowly nodding and pulling forward.  
With the situation taken care of, Sam turned his attention towards the window. Just in the short distance was a small water feature, a pond that was encased in trees. A certain clearing allowed sight to the sparkling water, yet it was occupied by a still individual. Sam narrowed his eyes.  
It was definitely a female, perhaps a young girl. Her height hinted of not being older than eighteen. Her long hair stretched far past the tips of his fingers, every strand remaining still. Even in the fall breeze, her hair, nor her white dressed moved an inch. Her back was turned to him, and yet she seemed to sense his stare, turning. The sad blue eyes cut into him, even from the distance they were from each other. Why would a mere child like her be alone when a kidnapper was on the loose? More than that, the words she started with her mouth, what was she saying?  
A leaf washed past her image, Sam losing sight of her for a mere second. As his vision readjusted, Sam found the small pond area to be empty. He could only continue searching in confusion.  
Dean noticed the odd silence, inquiring what his brother was looking for. Sam could only give a small response, one to which didn't include all details.  
"A girl."  
"Aren't we all?" Dean was quick to respond, chuckling.  
"Never mind that, watcha got on this place, Sammy?" He was quick to get back on topic, the area of the pond disappearing as he pulled forward. With no traffic ahead of behind, Dean pulled up to a stop sign and stalled the car. He then proceeded to reach for his unfinished sandwich. Sam started his explanation soon after.  
"Nearly thirty girls kidnapped from a rural area, all within the same month. The kidnappings aren't consistent, no specific time, or lunar cycle. The only similarities being their gender."  
Dean took a bite, shrugging and talking between chews.  
"Uppity town, right? Rich snobs in other words. What's so weird about it to drag our sorry asses out here? Could be some guy wanting to score a few tear-stained bucks." The wrinkled material crinkled through his fingers, Sam answering the question in a rather annoyed tone.  
"No, Dean. With each case, no ransom note was left. Even weirder, several men have been murdered. They've been found to their houses, gagged and drowned in the sink. Doesn't sound like the average criminal. I mean, could on spirit be doing all of this? Some kidnappings clash with the times of a murder. Dean, I don't think this thing's going solo." Sam glanced around, not a soul appearing on the streets. While they weren't too far into town, a few strips of shops and diners popped up. Why weren't there more people?  
"We should go to the library and look into the history of this place." Sam decided, Dean throwing his wrapper to the backseat with nay a care.  
"Sounds good, Sammy." He let out a small smirk, knowing the nickname would surely bring annoyance to his kid brother. Sam shook his head, giving a sighed phrase of protest.  
"Jerk."  
Dean chuckled, glancing over.  
"Bitch."

"Alright, I think I found something here, Sammy."  
Within the dust-stained pile of folders was nestled a very vigilant pair of brothers. While one was intently staring to a record, the other took the command and walked to his side.  
Dean pointed to his file, the empty rows of the library allowing an un-hushed tone. He recited his findings with no true precaution.  
"Amelia White. It says she was only seventeen when she left home after a fight with her parents. Spent a few weeks with her aunt before coming home. Left her cousin's house and never arrived home. Police found obvious signs of a struggle near her car, even her purse was left. The family waited for a ransom note, but one was never issued. Body never recovered. Sounds like a typical vengeful spirit, but.." He trailed off, Sam needing a verbal command to be said before his brother responded.  
"But what, Dean?" He inquired, watching his brother drop the folder and assume a deep in though position. In other words, a simple knuckle to his chin keeping his entire head up.  
"I can't understand why she would do all of this. If she was the one kidnapped, why would she do the same to other girls? Just doesn't make sense."  
Sam gave a sympathetic, "I'm-just-as-confused-as-you" look, picking the folder from the ground. He gave it a quick skim, finally coming to a picture. The image sent a familiar chill down his back, Dean sensing his uneasiness immediately.  
"Sammy? What is it?" He glanced down as well, studying the photo.  
As the document had stated, her age was seventeen, the small features saying of a younger appearance. She was so young, too young. Long brown hair stretched out of the frame, hinting of an even longer length. That feature didn't stand out, though. No, the part that seeked out their pupils almost immediately, was the girl's eyes. They were so piercing, so blue. Even captured in the photo, those eyes were alive. When would they start to blink in front of them? Her pale chest reminded Dean of her surname, "White." She was a doll, stated plainly and simply.  
"This girl, I've seen her before. When we first pulled in, she was at the pond. We've got to go, Dean." Sam was up before his brother could respond, causing the older sibling to jog after.  
"Hey! We're just going to rush in after a creepy ghost girl with no plan? You trying to turn into me, Sammy?" Dean protested, stopping Sam in his tracks. Sam sighed, sticking his hands to his pockets. The boy glanced around nervously, his brother's shouting perhaps overheard. With the coast apparently clear, Sam explained his lack of hesitation.  
"I don't know. I just think... Maybe we don't need a plan. The way she looked at me, I didn't see any hate. It was just.." He glanced to Dean, their eyes meeting.  
"Sadness. She was just so sad, Dean." His little brother's usual puppy-dog face had initiated, eyes begging to jump into the Impala and drive several miles above the speed limit.  
Dean rolled his eyes, an angry sigh erupting from his annoyance building.  
"You're crazy. What if this thing decides to ditch the whole, "Kidnapped Girls," act and switches to "Murdered Smchucks?" His usual humor was included in his words, yet Dean's message was all the same.  
Danger. It wouldn't be the first time a flower turned into a fox, and it most certainly wouldn't be the last. Even so, Sam insisted.  
"Alright, you want a plan? Why don't I talk to her alone? You could hide out in the bushes, and if there's trouble, Dean Winchester can do as he always does."  
The same old prideful attitude appeared, Dean piping up.  
"Save his brother's darling little ass?"  
"Something like that." Allowing just a small margin of Dean-ness was preferrable. If it convinced his brother of the impossible, any comment would be taken or given.  
"Fine, but if that bitch so much as moves a leaf, she gets a mouthful of rock-salt." Dean pointed, getting his point across with large and intimidating eyes. He strode off to his car with a small song humming to his lips. Sam could almost smile, his lips pointing up.  
His big brother didn't often voice his true feelings, if ever. Most subjects on that matter would be brushed off with a smart comment, and most would call him a jack-ass or jerk because of this, but within those thorn covered words is something to unseen, so fragile that Dean can barely raise an eye to it. It's almost as though he truly does not know of it's existence. It is concern, it is himself. It is his driven duty to protect his little brother at all costs. What would happen if the thorns were cut, leaving him exposed? Well, Sam didn't like to think such a thing could happen, and yet...  
Back then, as they were leaving, what was that hint of sadness in Dean's eyes?


	2. Chapter 2

With the gentle washing of wind, the wild grass billowed wildly. Sam allowed himself to button his jacket, brushing past the overgrowth protecting the pond. The sky remained clear, barely a cloud entering the heavy blue. Sam could tell the color was not that of the previously seen girl, her pupils being darker and more piercing.  
Finally, he was able to break into the clearing. It was just as beautiful as Sam had previously seen, various wild flowers sprouting to the grass. He could identify buttercups, a lily-type flower, and maybe clover. There was a perfect amount, not too clumped in a specific section, and too spaced apart. How could it be so scenic, so beautiful? Even the water sparkled unlike any pond Sam had seen before.  
"It's breath-taking, isn't it?" A sudden voice made the boy jump. Looking to his right, a familiar face gazed to the pond. Once again, those sad blue eyes pierced into him, digging and tearing. Sam pulled his coat tighter, the appearance of a spirit increasing the flow of chilly air.  
"It makes me wonder if the reason this land flourishes so well is because of me. It was never so beautiful when I was a child."  
She finally stuck her eyes to him, Sam clearing his throat in hopes of clearing the air of the fact of his agape mouth and stare.  
"Are you Amelia? Amelia White?" A stupid question, as the features to the photo matched hers exactly. Even the embroidery to the neck-line of her dress was the same. There was no doubt, this was the girl.  
Amelia blinked, allowing her eyes to remain shut for a few seconds. When she finally opened them again, her sight was to the pond.  
"Yes. The girl with water spilling from every crevice. I am Amelia. May I ask your name?" A very polite and formal question, appropriate of a girl of her class. Even so, Sam felt apprehensive. Finally realizing his answer would do no harm, he spoke up.  
"Sam. Sam Winchester. I wanted to come here to ask ab-"  
"About the kidnapped girls? All twenty-six of them?" No smile of arrogance of playfulness came to her lips, a thin line remaining.  
Sam nodded meekly, the girl continuing. She sighed softly.  
"I only wanted to save them. The girls, all of them are in danger, Sam."  
His god-complex seemed to kick in, the safety of the children outweighing the oddness of having small-talk with a ghost. He lunged slightly towards her, eager of new information.  
"The girls? Do you know where they are? What is trying to hurt them, Amelia?" Her vague statements left many questions still. Amelia shook her head.  
"That man. He's going to get them all unless I keep them safe." She gripped a wrist, face breaking to a small frown. What could be done? Sam worried, taking another step towards her.  
"I can't talk now, Sam. He may hear, but please..." The woman in white gripped his hands, the act earning Sam numb fingers. The anxiety plastered to her grew deeper, that fact being reflected in her blue eyes.  
"Please find him. My brother will know exactly what to do. You have to stop that man, no matter what. I'm begging you, Sam." Her voice took upon a shriller command, her longing of the villain stopped expressed very well.  
Those blue eyes conveying so much torment, so much pain. So much sadness it made Sam sick. He could only open his mouth to ask a question, a selfish question that in no way would save a soul, a question that would only waste time. Swallowing hard, the fingers to his hands seeming to disappear, Sam spoke.  
"Amelia, when you look at me, your eyes... I can't believe how sad you look. I've never seen it before, so, why?"  
He swallowed again, a lump stuck to his throat.  
"Why are you so sad, Amelia?"  
Amelia was in no way shocked of the question, her face instead portraying a still knowing, such a kind face of sympathy. Or was it remembrance?  
She let his hands drop, blood instantly rushing and staining them a slight red. Amelia narrowed her eyes, memories coming with time.  
"It's odd. I can't remember when they changed, of the exact reason for their transformation. All I now realize is how many times I was told my eyes would light up a room. Tell me, Sam," She glanced to him, Sam freezing instantly. Having eyes like that could be useful.  
"Why are your eyes full of the same sorrow?"  
That question. That question worked more than the eyes in making his heart stop. The sudden thoughts of his reason for travelling, for leaving the safe haven and normal life for such a way rushed to mind. Sam felt even his lungs stop, a small sob caught to his throat. The girl raised her hand again to touch him, fingers instead going for the center of his forehead.  
The sensation could not be described as cold or unfeeling. It was in fact warm. Burning. His throat was all of the sudden on fire, so painful. Sam could only keep his thoughts to one point however, the pain being brushed away, as his mind refused to work without the crystal clear images. The screaming. The fire.  
Without Jess.  
"J-Jessica.." He coughed out, legs starting to feel limp.  
Blue eyes full of sadness were pinned to him, the shuffling in the brush ignored as Sam's incoherent shouts for the memories rang out. It was almost deafening, his screams. Dean couldn't brush it off, aiming his gun to the spirit.  
"Hey, blue eyes White bitch." Dean's loud cocking of the weapon alerted the girl, stopping her hand and allowing Sam to slump to the ground, defeated. His slight jerking of sobs was seen, life still inside.  
Dean wasted no time in shooting, her image vanishing is the cloud of rock salt. His attention turned instantly to Sam.  
"Sam! SAMMY!" He dove down, pulling his brother from the ground. Even with the diminishing sun, Dean could see the thick line of tears trailing from Sam's eyes, even feel the still rushing waters reach his own arm. His eyes were still open, large with fear and staring to the sky. They would jump every other second, maybe hinting of an image Dean was unable to see. His quick breaths and mumbling accompanied each jump. Dean could only stare with fright as helplessness covered every inch of him.  
He should have never let Sammy out of his sight, not even for a second. Of course, a second was all it took. Dean Winchester could only hold his brother and stare in horror just as his sibling did.  
For how could he shed a tear when the sensation had been long forgotten?

"Jessica, I.." His choked cry rang out, Sam wiping his mouth in frustration. A hard pounding in turn erupted from the motel's hard-wood door. The pounding was so heavy, so desperate, yet Sam had placed a chair under the know. He would not be interrupted, not by anyone.  
"Sam! Sammy! Let me in! What the hell are you pulling in there!? Answer me!" It was none other than his older brother, trying yet again to save his sibling. He would be too late, though. Far too late.  
Squeezing the pistol's handle, Sam brought the metal to his temple. It was so cold, completely opposite to that of his perspiration covered head.  
Dean could hear the wood start to give in when the gunshot rang out in the room. With the anxiousness serving as a dose of adrenaline, he stuttered it. What he witnessed waiting for him shook ever inch of Dean, the thorns to his words, encasing his soul broke off instantly. They fell to the ground, disintegrating as Dean fell to them.  
"NOOO!" His harsh and deep voice broke at the high-tone, Dean himself perhaps trying to make the scene untrue. It was impossible. Something like this could never happen. Not to his little Sammy. That, is the only time the sensation returned, the action that was thought to be forgotten.  
"S-Sammy.."

"Shaking him awake was none other than the one to which his dream involved. Sam stood slightly over him, measuring every expression. Dean shook his head, wiping the sleep from his eyes.  
"And here I thought you'd be watching over your little brother while he slept. Guess I was wrong." Sam snorted, walking to the nearby bed and plopping into it. Dean glanced around, the area to which they were being the same as his dream, the cheap motel he had picked in a frenzy the night before. He even recognized the area to which Sam-  
He cut himself from the thought, covering his mouth as the nausea spread. Sam gave him an odd look, Dean recovering and swallowing hard. With the experience gone, he focused to Sam. Anger seemed to instantly sprout, eyebrows furrowing.  
"What the hell were you thinking, Sammy? Do you have any idea what that thing could have done to you!? Goddamnit, Sammy." He held his head in frustration, a small tiredness in his eyes still. Though he had been asleep when his brother had awoken, the night before was mostly spent on the computer, searching for anything to help Sam. Worrying about his little brother took so much energy it almost scared him.  
"Dean, where are we? What happened?" Sam took a few shaky steps to the desk chair. He had a seat, happy to get out of bed and into an upright position.  
"We're at hotel Luna Loca. I had to drag your sorry ass from that pond and all the way to the Impala. It was even worse having to explain a knocked-out man being dragged to a shady hotel room. I guess it's a "don't ask; don't tell" type of deal. Didn't stop the chick at the front desk from giggling all to hell, though. Kinda wish she didn't. Man, would I love to get a hold of those big-"  
"Dean! Story!" Sam interrupted, not quite interested in what his brother cared to do to that poor, poor girl. He rushed back into the conversation, Sam having put him on track."  
"Well, while you had a bit of beauty sleep, I did some research." Research as scoring a couple of numbers at the local bar and occasionally asking a question, Sam figured. He rolled his eyes.  
"Turns out there's a local legend about that pond. "A teenage girl in white is said to lurk, driving any who speak with her mad with grief. Anyone coming alone throws themself into the pond." Dean threw his small notebook to the side, it having served it's purpose.  
"It sounded kinda familiar, so I decided to look into it. Turns out this isn't the first time spirits have caused someone to kill themselves. Dad came across one, too." He sprung with life, grabbing the laptop and twisting the screen to Sam. He froze in place, the side picture clutching his limbs. Sad blue eyes.  
"They're called "Lacerandum Datores." It means "The bringer of tears" or just "tear-bringer." When young girls die horrible and unexplained deaths, they turn into these things. I'm guessing little Amy is somewhere near that pond, maybe in it."  
Sam held his head, adding to Dean's words.  
"She said something about being "the girl with water spilling from every crevice." Dean nodded, agreeing.  
"It's weird, though. I haven't found anything that says these spirits feed from the good feelings they take. That weird hand thingy she did to your head. Dad wrote that he found they just threw away that energy. It's almost as thought they want others to feel the same type of sadness they do." The information stated apparently struck a nerve of worry with the older brother, as he turned to Sam.  
"Are you alright, Sammy? You kept.. You kept yelling her name, Jessica's." The name was still so sensitive. Sam shook his head.  
"I can't remember. I think I know where we're going next, though." He avoided the subject, diving into the case at hand. Better to be out of his psych and into the welfare of the girls.  
"Not where we're going, where I'm going. That bitch's mind tricks were enough to get you to your knees, Sammy. What would happen if she got you again? Huh? No, you're staying here." With a rather intimidating tone, his point was stated, Sam protesting.  
"Dean, you don't even know where her body is in that lake, and what about the girls? She said she was protecting them from the "man." What is she's the only one who knows where they are? How are we supposed to find them then?" Logic didn't always apply to Dean Winchester, yet in this moment, he gave in. Plopping to the table chair angrily, he held his head.  
"What do we do, then?" He was out of ideas. Maybe a drink could help his aching head and whirling thoughts. That dream was too much, and he hoped it would soon be drowned in alcohol as his thoughts always were.  
"We have to head to the library again. Amelia told me her brother would know what to do. We find him and hope to hell we have a lead." Sam's clear thinking allowed the two to have an action to commit to, yet Dean went unconvinced.  
"Yeah, let's go, because that ghost bitch sure loves helping you, Sam." He retorted, Sam getting ready for the fight.  
"It's the best we've got, Dean. Do you want to twiddle your thumbs doing nothing while the girls could be in danger? Huh!?" It was an obvious answer, and Dean merely rolled his eyes. He reached for his coat, following Sam out of the room with no further complaints.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, little bro." Dean finished his soda, whipping the empty can to the garbage. Sneaking a drink in was worth it his parched throat decided.  
Sam placed a note to where he had left off, joining Dean to the seat he had taken across the room. A picture and short bio of a man sat to the desk. Chase White, it read, the man's face staring straight into the camera with no smile or highlighted features. No wrinkles of old age were to his cheeks, hinting of maybe an early-twenties guess. He wore a rather expensive looking attire, a tie tucked to a vest hidden mostly by a black jacket. They seemed to be rather new, and rather brand-name. Dean shook his head.  
"Looks like Amy gave you some crappy info, Sammy. Chase White, her older brother has been dead for years. Get this, went to find his sister, only to disappear and reappear weeks later. He was gagged, and the medical examiner found signs of drowning." Looking to Sam for his reaction, Dean let the information sink in.  
"Sounds like our little ghost. You think "that man" didn't get enough kicks when he was alive? Needed to stay around a bit longer to murder a few more people?" A certain bitterness worked its way into Sam's voice. Dean looked to the picture, inferring a few more facts.  
"So sister goes missing, he finds the killer, confronts him, gets killed, too. When the killer dies, he stays around a few more years to continue where he left off. Amy and the killer unable to move on."  
That still leaves a few more question. Sam sighed, closing the book to his desk.  
Why would the killer go after men after kidnapping a girl when he was alive? Was killing Chase really that enjoyable? What was his reasoning?  
What if.. What if the person murdering men wasn't Amy's killer? Could Chase be doing it for some reason?  
"Come on, Sammy. It's getting late, and I, for one, want to hit the hay." A yawn added to his statement's validity, Dean pulling his jacket on. Sam started to clean the mess they had created, carefully placing the folders to the assigned drawers. With no help from the man bounding towards the steps and outside, Sam was able to finish his work in several minutes. He turned to catch up with Dean at the task's conclusion.  
Before he could, however, a struggle and crash quite loud came from the ground-floor of the library. Finally, a shout of pain sounded, a very familiar one. The sound sent shivers of fear down his spine, and nearly throwing himself down the stairs, Sam rushed to see the fate of his brother.  
It was a clear foyer, one to which no hiding spots could be found. There could only be two true exits or entrances, the main doors and stairs. Neither hinted of Dean's position.  
"Dean! Dean, where are you!?" The typical fear of being separated from his older brother soaked in, sending panic Sam's way.  
Finally looking down, he realized a single item had been left behind. It was one of his brother's most prized possessions, something so irreplaceable to him.  
His car keys.  
Sam grabbed them, measuring their feel and weight. It was truly Dean's, that fact was certain. If only his location could be confirmed.  
Sam sighed, staring out into the cool night. A small breeze shuffled past, sending the trees into a frenzy of scraping leaves. They settled eventually, peace regaining.  
"Where are you, Dean?"

The steady dripping of a liquid was the object to which stirred him, alerted his senses. The man blinked several times, glancing around.  
It was a rather dark setting, perhaps a basement, measuring from the slight grass seen from a high window. The sun streaming from that single area was the only light source allowing Dean to see.  
His hands and ankles were bound to the chair he sat, that much could be told from the pulling he administered to them. Another chilling fact crept it's way into his mind; his inability to speak.  
He was gagged. A tight cloth wrapped into his mouth, being slightly damp from saliva to his tongue.  
Not good, not good. Where have I heard about men being gagged and dro-Dean cut his thoughts off, footsteps from above causing various particles of dust and dirt to trail to his position.  
He worked his hands, trying his best to perhaps loosen the ropes, to try and wiggle his appendages free. Nervous fidgeting increased at the opening of the door in the distance, just the stairs separating the two being. It sent rays of light into the basement, some interrupted by the silhouette.  
Dean glared, the figure shutting the door and starting it's way down the stairs. The basement had been thrown into a darkness, the only few speckled rays coming through the dirty and cracked window.  
Without laying a hand to the man, and without Dean able to catch a glance of his face, he covered the window. His only friend, only ally was covered and thrown away, pure darkness creeping into the basement.  
Dean closed his eyes, dropping his head. Stopping one sense often heightened another. With no sight, he could hear every step and shuffle of his assailant. The pair of feet stopped in front of Dean, short sour breaths making their way to him.  
Within several minutes of pure blindness, and of no movement, a hand suddenly sprung to his cheeks. The man gripped his face, squeezing harshly and bitterly. A growl of disgust rang out, an animal's cry. He whipped Dean's face to the side, kicking at the chair in frustration.  
"You did this, didn't you? You hurt her, hurt me." His gruff voice reached its peak, Dean unable to deny any claims of false-doing with the cloth stuffed to his mouth. A slap connected to his face, sending sharp stings of pain to his cheek. Dean opened his eyes, glaring into the darkness.  
"Think about what you've done before you get your bath."  
Bath.  
The word rang in his mind as the pain wrung to his skin. Just like all the other men, he was going to be drowned, in a sink, for that matter.  
Dean let out his own growl, eyes burning with anger. He hated to admit it, but with such tight ropes, and in such a darkness, he needed help. If only Sammy could get there soon.

A feeling of despair washed over Sam as the empty hotel room made itself hauntingly aware. There were no signs of his older brother, not even a sandwich wrapper to the ground. Cleanliness was not like Dean, not at all. It was safe to say he had not shown.  
"Damnit, Dean. Where the hell are you?" Maybe an answer to his cry, the still-open computer screen buzzed to life. It illuminated the closed-off room, blinds shut tightly.  
Sam cautiously inched towards the monitor, the image freezing his over.  
Sad blue eyes, so sad.  
The girl's face wore a neutral place, yet the eyes conveyed more loneliness the mouth could ever hope to. Sam dropped his sour frown, one of pity replacing it. An idea sprung forth, Sam nearly dropping the keys to the Impala.  
Amelia! He could ask her where Dean could be!  
His only hope to find his brother was standing alone at a pond. Would she still be there, though?  
Sam shook his head, scrambling to the door and slamming it behind him.  
No room for doubts. There wasn't a reason to give up. Not yet.

With the same scene of beauty and life at the pond arrived the exact same feeling of uneasiness. Sam made his way gradually through the bush, realizing another soul was already at the body, perhaps waiting for him.  
Bathed in her pure white dress without any stains was Amelia. Her brown hair was still as long, face pointed towards the pond. She didn't stir as Sam approached, stare pointing at the water. Those blue eyes seemed very calm, sadness turned down yet still present.  
"You have had a life full of many sorrows, Sam Winchester. It's a wonder why you haven't done anything to yourself yet. Are you angry at me for giving you such images of your beloved, for learning of you?" No longer filled with a mother's kindess, the teenage girl wore a sort of begging face a dog would. Did she somehow crave his forgiveness?  
Sam shook his head, being able to look her in the eye for once.  
"No, I'm not, because I learned about you, Amelia." A slightly surprised glint signalled in her eyes, curiousity coming with it.  
"You have?"  
Sam nodded, stating the facts.  
"You got into a fight with your parents, and you left town to spend a few weeks with your aunt. When you left to return home, some man kidnapped you and dumped the body into this pond.' A rather odd statement was used in a non-chalant tone. Amy dropped her stare, turning to the pond as a familiar and safe object.  
"No, that's not right. That's not what happened to me." Sad blue eyes yet again, Sam realized, listening as she began.  
"I didn't have a fight with my parents. I guess that's just what they put into the newspaper to explain my disappearance since no one knew what happened. There was a man, someone who loved me very much, almost obsessively. I had finally worked up the courage to tell him to leave me be, but he said something terrible, so terrible..." Her eyes glossened, yet no tears fell to the ground.  
"He said he would hunt me down and kill me if I ever left him, left this town. I-I was so scared, I didn't know what to do.. I finally decided to take refuge a few towns over, with my aunt. Maybe he wouldn't find me, maybe I could stay with her and hide.."  
Sam could feel a tinge of guilt over prying into such a soft subject, but it was necessary. Also adding the fact of her memory-reading of him allowed the guilt to drop considerably. Amelia sniffed, continuing.  
"My brother was the only one I told, and he begged me to come back. Chase said he would protect me, keep me safe, but..." She trailed off, glancing to her long and slender fingers. Sam picked off where she left off, piecing it together.  
"But the man had found you, he was waiting for you at you car, wasn't he? He took you home, to his house by this pond and tied you up, gagged you."  
Amelia nodded slowlyy, reliving the memories.  
"He tied a cloth into my mouth so I couldn't yell for help. My hands burned so much, and I couldn't loosen them, no matter how much I moved. That man whispered softly into my ear, telling me that we would always be together. He kept whispering even as he.." Her calm and collected mind had obviously not wandered this far into the memory, as her hands began to shake.  
"Even as I cried and begged for mercy, that man kept bringing that hammer to my knees. It was torture hearing my bones break as they did. It was all so I could never run from him, never leave that sick man.."  
Sam glanced around, noting a small question to his head.  
Is that why she won't leave this pond? Is it because her legs are broken?  
"I wouldn't live with his like he wanted. I would spit at him, claw at him when he untied me. I still had my cell phone on me, so I called my brother the moment that man left the room. I wanted to at least hear his voice for a last time.. But the ringing never stopped, I never got my "Hello, this is Chase." He never answered, or rather, that man knocked the phone from my hand before he could press the answer button. I suppose it was the last straw, as I found myself tied and gagged again. He threw me into the pond and I drowned in the dead of night with no sun peaking from just above the water, only a cold, hard black. I never got to hear my brother's voice in the end. I only wish he would have answered sooner.." Amy regained her composure, hands no longer shaking.  
Sam let out a small sigh as the remaining bits of the story fit to the puzzle of a case. It all made sense with her explanation.  
"Your brother, Am, he's dead. He's been dead around as long as you have." Dean's image came to mind, but Sam shook it off long enough to continue.  
"He's been trying to find the man that killed you, killed him."  
Amelia stopped cold at those words. In fact, her words were caught to her throat, allowing no speech.  
"He's been getting it all wrong though. Amy, can you remember what the man looked like, your murderer?" It all depended on that question. If he was wrong, he would have no idea of Dean's whereabouts. Sam silently begged the girl.  
She opened her mouth, pausing slightly, but going in.  
"He was very muscular, so strong. And his hair, it was dirty blonde. His eyes were green. Why do you ask, Sam?"  
Just as he had thought. Sam narrowed his eyes, a breakthrough made.  
"Amy, I think you aren't hiding the girls from the bad man, I think it's someone else who is murdering men in this town. That is the reason why you're doing this, right?"  
She nodded, not quite sure where this conversation was going. Sam continued.  
"It's Chase, Amelia. He knows what your killer looked like, and he's hunting all the males of a similar appearance. You've been hiding them all from your own brother."  
It was a shocking revelation to the girl, but even so, only regret washed to her. Amelia gripped her hands to her chest, turning to the pond.  
"He's been killing innocent people? Chase, how could you..?" Gripping herself tighter, Amelia shifted her eyes to Sam.  
"What can we do to stop him?" Such eager words were almost traitorous. Sam went through the usual protocol, explaining the procedure.  
"His body was cremated, so there has to be an object of great importance, or maybe something that has a piece of himself. Can you think of anything?"  
She traced over various thought, nothing jumping out as odd or necessary. Finally, a rather odd idea came to mind.  
"There was a box that Chase never let me see. He said his most precious item was inside. I think that's it." She nodded, Sam needing a bit more information.  
"Where would it be now? Please, Amy, he has my brother."  
With every second that ticked by, Sam couldn't be certain Dean was even alive. The terrible feeling of not knowing. What if his hope was purely for nothing?  
"Our house. He kept it in our house's basement. I don't know it it's been moved since I've been there, but it would be under the only window. Look for a wooden chest."  
Sam nodded, turning to the direction of bush to which the Impala was stationary. Only one thing was on his mind ; Dean.  
"Wait! Sam!" The girl in white suddenly let out a shout, stopping his stride. He turned back, brown locks billowing slightly.  
"What is it?" He was rather anxious to have his foot on the petal and zooming down the street. Amelia looked hesitant as she rubbed her forearm. She spoke with confidence, maybe even anger.  
"When you find that box, don't bring it here, just burn it on the spot. He's been so stupid, killing innocent people. If there's a chance that he would appear, I wouldn't want to look at him." Amy glanced towards Sam.  
"Alright?"  
He had no time to argue, listening to her demands and barely taking them in.  
"Okay. House at the end of Cherry?" Sam questioned.  
Amelia nodded, one last sentence coming from her lips. Making certain steps to the boy, she pressed her lips to Sam's cheek. It was a numb peck, leaving a cold set of goosebumps to his skin. Sam brushed his fingers over it, staring down to sad blue eyes yet again. An even more melancholy smile crossed her face.  
"Thank you, Sam Winchester. Thank you very much."  
Stuttering in his mind, Sam could not form words to reply to the spirit expressing gratitude in the form of a kiss. He simply gave a quick nod, rushing off.  
Not without a last glance towards the woman in white did Sam escape to find his brother. Were the sad blue eyes pointed towards him at the pond in which her failing figure lie? Sam didn't realize, determination coursing through him. All other ideas were out, killing ghost bastards being his main idea.  
Just hang tight, Dean.


	4. Chapter 4

"Listen, buddy, I've been tied up by prettier guys than you. You're not special. Why don't you just give this up and untie me?" Dean's free mouth allowed his smart words to flow, probably succeeding in annoying the five-mile radius. His hands had been loosened to a comfortable tightness just a bit by working his fingers. They lessened the burning, yet Dean was glued to that chair. He clenched his teeth, the silent kidnapper driving him mad, along with the darkness surrounding him. A recipe for insanity, honestly.  
Finally, a noise other than shuffling and short breaths was heard. It was a squeaking or maybe a faucet, the immediate running of a liquid accompanying it. Dean froze at the sound, a shiver of fear running down his back.  
"Now, now, let's calm down here, Chase. You don't want to do this." His mind, along with all the time to think had pieced together the remained of the story, of his kidnapper's identity.  
Only two ghosts, not three or four. Amelia's killer must have been cremated, or simply moved on. She had been keeping the girls safe from her own sibling, even when he housed no need or want to hurt them. Just a precautionary measure, Dean was sure. She hadn't known it was Chase, or the fact that he was only going after men of a certain type. Dean had stupidly brushed their similar appearances off, trying to focus on family relationships or whether or not they had a daughter. It was a mistake that could potentially cost him his life. God, if only Sam would hurry it up. He's the brains of the family, Dean thought. Why hadn't he located Dean yet?  
"You're the one who did it. You deserve as much as I got." Chase strode towards him, feet clicking to the ground. He stopped in front of Dean, grabbing a side of the chair. The wood dragged across the stone, creating a loud and obnoxious noise. Dean protested as the sound of running water grew louder.  
"H-hey! Are you going to do this again? Drown another innocent person!? What the hell would your sister think of you killing people not involved in any of this!? Think about Amy for once, goddamnit!"  
Like talking to a freaking brick wall. Dean felt a rush of cold water, freezing water that trailed over the bottom of his shirt and pants. The sink was obviously holding more water than it could handle, and the excess liquid was streaming over the sides. Goosebumps formed on his arms, legs numbing.  
Dean clenched his teeth, chuckling nervously. It was a very odd sensation having his entire bottom half almost non-existent.  
"I am thinking of Amy, everyday. I'm doing this for her." Chase picked the sides of the chair up, Dean falling forward slightly. Even in the dark basement he could see the heavy swirling liquid destined to take his life away. Chase slowly let the tilt grow, Dean diving face-first. He struggled, hands and legs trying to break free. Even with such strong pulling, the rope kept tight. Dean could only close his eyes and try pivoting his head to the side. He succeeded in taking a breath of air, only to have his hair pulled tight and slammed back into the water. His watery cries no longer being able to hold his breath rang out. His lungs couldn't take it, an intense burning, one that was even worse than his hands formed. Finally, with nothing hanging on, Dean had to let a breath in while he head remained underwater. Water flowed from the sink and into him, drowning everything out.  
"Dean!" A gunshot rang out, a spray of rock salt coming from the area of the stairs. The hands holding to Dean disappeared, the man falling limp into the water. The words were barely real to him, the pain of watery lungs mostly of concern. A new figure rushed to his side, pulling him from the sink.  
"Dean!? Dean, are you still with me? Answer me, it's Sam!"  
The disoriented world of black swirled as the water in his mouth was coughed out. Dean retched, his past dinner nearly ending up with the puddle of water to his chin.  
A small smile and relieved laugh came from Sam's lips. He patted Dean's back, the sputtering man still outing the water.  
"God, Dean. You scared me. I can't leave you alone for a second, can I?" His brother regained his composure, tongue slightly out of mouth as he gasped for air.  
"Yeah, yeah, just untie me already." He gaped, leaning his head back. Tiring work being the damsel in distress.  
Sam complied, cutting the ropes with a swift motion of the hand. He picked up his discarded flashlight, Dean already going for his own legs.  
"Alright, what do we burn?" Dean asked, cracking his ankles as he pulled himself from the chair. Sitting for nearly an entire day wasn't the best treatment for any bones. He stretched silently, listening for any movement.  
Sam looked around, the sun's rays streaming in from the door above.  
"There's a small window, and a wooden box has to be underneath." Nothing could be seen in the pitch black, especially a small wooden chest.  
Suddenly, rays from the outside rushed through an opening. The small spotted and cracked window was uncovered bu Dean, who then hopped from the chair and stared under it.  
Sam appeared, his eyes being to the same area his brother's were.  
Encased in several years worth of dust particles was a cubed object. Dean locked eyes with Sam, bending down to open the container.

"He said his most precious item was inside."

The words to which Amelia had told him echoed to his mind, Sam picking the item from the velvet box bottom. The weight was not much, yet it hinted of an object inside the rusted hinges.  
It was a necklace, one to which often contained photographs of a loved one. A gem of red was fitted to the outside, though it had lost most of its shimmer. The particles were brushed off by Sam's finger, his own reflection staring back at him. He unlatched the gold, opening way to the inside.  
Dean grabbed a lighter from the bag slung to Sam's shoulder, creating a flame and inching it towards the items in the necklace. Sam whipped it away, Dean withdrawing the spark questioningly.  
"What is it? Sudden change of heart for arsony? We've done worse, Sammy."  
Sam ignored Dean's comment, examining the object yet again. The items to which the locket contained were so important. How could he burn them without showing Amy? Without truly getting Chase's feelings conveyed? Sam made a decision, dropping the necklace back to the box and heading towards the stairs.  
He would fix the situation, no matter the obstacles that hit the path. Ladies and gentlemen, his god complex in its true form.

Dean was still rubbing a towel through his head as they pulled up to the pond. The rays of the defeating sun set lazily between the brush, hinting of a greater encounter of light at the body of water.  
Sam and Dean jumped out of the car, Dean peeling the towels from the seats of the Impala. Not a single drop of liquid would touch his baby, even if it was his own.  
Sam made quick steps into the dense vegetation, Dean trying his best to keep up.  
"Slow down! A man isn't his best after being drowned." He cried, wiping a speck of moisture from his forehead. Sam didn't slow down, he may have even picked up his speed. He needed to get to the girl, ASAP.  
Finally, the bright ball to the sky was seen in its full glory, the clouds surrounding it being basked in a yellow orange illumination. The reflection in the waving pond was just the same, a single girl's image appearing as well. Amelia White was alone in her standing, eyes shifting towards Sam's reflection. He stopped behind her, box still covered mostly in dust. It would probably be unrecognizable to any gazing at it, yet the object was just the same to her. She looked to it silently. Did she think it was maybe a mere illusion created in the water? Or did she know it was the same toy from so many years ago? The same box she would try to open, only to be harshly scolded by her older brother?  
"Why did you bring it here? I asked you not to, Sam." Annoyance was in her blue eyes, Dean's image appearing behind Sam. She finally turned to the true form of atoms, realizing that they did indeed have the small chest.  
"Amelia, listen, you have to see what's inside this box." He begging breaths only put skepticism to her pupils, Sam holding the item out to her.  
"Please, just open it."  
Even in not wanting to, Amy grabbed the box. She studied its fading wood, feeling the smooth sides. To her, it had not changed in the slightest from the early years of near-forgotten memories. No, not at all.  
Wordlessly, and with a more interested stare, Amy opened the box. The rusted hinges squeaked in protest, yet with encouragement, they allowed access to the contents.  
The normally sad blue eyes began to increase in size at the revelation of the locket. They were as huge as saucers by the time she had brought it out of its hiding place. The cleaned ruby shone brilliantly, echoing the sun's lowering rays. She could only pop open the locket and glance over the contents with a gasp before another figure appeared to the scene. He stood behind her, hands slightly tucked to a pair of black dress pants. The breeze did not affect his white shirt, nor the vested jacket. His black tie was unmoved as well, tucked neatly into the nook of his vest. Brown hair a similar color to Amelia's was lazily strewn to his head, some locks appearing over his blue eyes.  
Such sad, sad blue eyes.  
"I never wanted ou to see inside that necklace, Amelia. I never wanted anyone to look at my greatest weakness, my most precious treasure." Chase stood with a simple silence as he finished. Amy turned to him, eyes still quite large.  
Siblings reunited after so many years of being apart, and all Amelia could do was grip the locket for dear life. He lip started a small quiver, teeth clenched to keep the whimpers and mumbling down.  
"This locket, Chase, you.."  
Keeping with the sequence of age was a very old photograph tucked into the indented frame of the necklace. It showcased a very happy smile and pair of bright blue eyes. Just the image could bring a grin to any man's face. The while lace dancing around the dress' neckline was barely seen through the brown hair wrapping to it. It was such a change from Amelia's typical expression and tight features.  
This was the item her big brother had been keeping for so long, keeping out of harm's way. A simple picture of his sister and a clipping of his own hair.  
"I've been so confused, Amelia. My mind has been filled with such rage and depression. All I could think of was finding that man, the one who hurt you."  
He withdrew his hands, taking a few steps towards her. Not a sound erupted as the grass remained straight under his feet. A truly ghostly attribute.  
"There is so much blood to my hands, far too much to be washed away by words. Amelia, I may be asking for too much, but, please.." Setting a small and innocent hand to her shoulder, Chase let out a very dense mixture of guilt and loneliness with his pleading eyes.  
"If you say you forgive me, it would mean so much. I'm so very sorry for what I've done. Please, Amy.. I 'm your big brother. I was supposed to protect you..."  
She let her muscles relax just a little, the locket noisily jostling into the gold chain.  
The two still living individuals watched on in silence, the family not to be interrupted. Amy stared down to the ruby instead of the sad blue that were most likely pointed to her.  
"My life was cut so short. It's so unfair that I never had the chance to do any of the things I had wanted. even with that being true, it's not the thing that bothers me most."  
Chase withdrew his hand from her shoulder, the sight of a liquid dropping from her eyes surprising him. He started to blink quite rapidly as she looked up, painful smile plastered to her lips.  
"Why didn't you answer your phone, Chase? I died without anyone I loved nearby, and without hearing a voice. I sunk to the cold ocean only looking to the stars shining, wondering if I still knew what you sounded like, what anyone else did. You're my big brother, so why didn't you..?" She trailed off, the increased intensity of waterworks catching her breath as her pale face turned red.  
Chase could only smile, pulling his small sister in his arms. He ran a hand through her hair, trying to comfort the now unstable girl. His smile increased in size as he spoke.  
"I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you, but now I can. I can always be with you, my little Amy.."  
Without a word, Dean sensed the embracing siblings were telling them the end was coming close. He raised the lighter to the stripes of hair in the locket, as well as the picture. They caught ahold of the spark within a small amount of time, both siblings retracting from the hug to face Dean and Sam. Even so, Amy grabbed her big brother's hand from his side.  
"Dean, is it? I apologize for my attempt at your life. No hard feelings, correct?" Just a bit of a laugh crept into his voice, Dean rolling his eyes.  
"Sure, sure. Just as long as you don't try giving me a bath again." The experience had obviously left rather scornful feelings for the man, Dean's unimpressed stare saying so.  
Amelia White and her big brother Chase's images grew weaker with every breath of the siblings standing before them.  
"Sam, they're in the most North Western branch of the sewers, all the girls. Please go to them with haste, as the food supply may be low." Even with her own situation resolved, and nothing to be gained in releasing the information, Amelia let it spill from her lips.  
Because, Sam realized, this was the exactly the type of girl she was.  
The beautiful little Amelia not with the sad blue eyes, never the girl able to freeze others with such sorrow, but the teenage girl with a set of eyes and a bright smile that could light up a room in an instance.  
Almost as if it were on cue, her pearly whites and glimmer in both pupils were shown. She could only get a single phrase from her pink lips before the White siblings disappeared from the spot they stood.  
"Thank you, Sam Winchester. Truly, and deeply, thank you."  
With the two figures gone, the retreating sun shone an even more brilliant color into Dean's eye. For once, Sam thought, glancing to the pond's edge to confirm.  
For a first time since entering this town, this pond, he could not see a face of such sadness reflecting from the clear waters of the pond. It was a bittersweet feeling, having to let a friend go after just meeting them. But Amelia and Chase deserved it, deserved the peace and rest with each other. Sam could tell they cared so much for each other, and that was great.  
He turned to Dean, half-smile forming.  
Yeah, just great.  
"Pair of siblings reunited, even if it's as lonely as the form of spirit. I think we've done out work, Sammy. Let's go give an anonymous tip about the girls. I could use a burger." Dean yawned, barely catching the majority of the action with his hand.  
Sam nodded, placing the remains of the charred locket into the box. He gave it a good toss to the pond, upsetting the water and creating many ripples of disturbance into it. He watched as the box began to take water in, decreasing in distance from the pond bed until the faded wood was no longer visible.  
He turned back to Dean, smile now full.  
"Yeah, sure, Dean."

Nothing is as strong as familial love and devotion, spirits crossing into the world of the living based on feelings of attachment and loyalty.  
The same could be said for the Winchester boys, their future uncertain as many challenges and difficulties are sure to arise. Even if such a catastrophic event occurs, ripping all basic feelings of self and compassion only to leave raw instinct, will one have the other to lean to? Will be these boys be able to stay together even with such demons?  
None can tell at this point, yet one thing is sure..  
It will promise to be one hell of a ride.


End file.
